


Change

by DinerGuy



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Gen, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why does it have to change?" -John Watson</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tunes84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunes84/gifts).



> This is all thanks to some (unintentional... maybe?) inspiration from Jenn... you may all blame her if you can beat your feels to do so. I still haven't been able to do so yet.
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Sherlock, or Watson, or anything other than all of the tears I have shed since seeing the finale. I'm not making anything off of this fic and am not trying to infringe on any copyrights.
> 
> This is probably one of the most depressing things I've ever written, although for some reason it was strangely therapeutic... It has also not been betaed, but please do not kill me over any errors you may notice. I still have too many other emotions going on right now to deal with that too. Now excuse me while I go curl up in the fetal position- again.

 

Why does it have to change?

I've asked myself that every day for the past month and no answer has seemed to make sense.

Everyone keeps telling me I should go back to writing. As if that's going to help me get back to any semblance of normality. Everything about my life keeps reminding me of what happened, and I don't know how to stop it.

It's no surprise, really. Almost my entire life was somehow involved with Sherlock. We shared a flat. We worked together. Except for the times I spent with Sarah, even my "free" time had something to do with him. This blog for instance. I can't even sit down at my computer without thinking about Sherlock; I wrote enough blog posts about our cases and about him that it's the first thing that comes to mind when I open the computer.

I can't even bring myself to actually log into the website to post this yet. Maybe I will in another few months. Maybe I never will. I don't know, honestly; I just felt like I had to write something out in hopes that the others' advice was sound and that this will help.

I don't know how to really explain how I feel lately. It would sound very dramatic if I said it felt like my whole world had fallen from the top of that building with Sherlock, but that is honestly the best way to describe what I feel right now. He was my best friend and now he's just gone.

And I don't even know why. Many are convinced that he was a fraud, that everything was just a big game and that he was simply doing it all for attention. I know better but I don't know how to prove it to everyone else. I haven't the slightest clue where to even start in proving that he was really the genius that he was once thought to be. When I have those thoughts, I immediately think how disappointed he would be in me. If it had been someone else and Sherlock was still here, he'd be berating me over the fact that none of his lessons over the past years have stuck enough for me to figure this out. It would seem like with all of the cases that we've solved together and all of the clues I've observed him pick out of seemingly thin air, I would be able to crack this one. This most important case ever. But Sherlock isn't here and I am not him, nor will I ever be.

I don't know if I will ever learn why he took that leap. None of it makes any sense. Sherlock was not one to just give up, especially not that easily, and especially not when he was already so determined to prove it was Moriarty. It makes no sense at all, but he's not here to solve the case for me.

I should probably go through his things at some point, but I haven't been able to bring myself to do so. Mrs. Hudson stopped asking after about a week of my constant refusals. As with the blog, everyone keeps telling me that it will "do some good" to clean the flat out, but they don't understand how hard it is. These things belong here. They were here long before I arrived. His scientific instruments, his books, his violin... everything, and it all constantly reminds me of him. I keep thinking I'll walk back in one day and find him poring over some document, playing a melody on the violin, or simply sitting on the couch staring moodily into space.

But it will never happen, and I know it. Deep down, there's a part of me that has already admitted the truth.

Sherlock is gone, and there's nothing I can do to change it.

-JW


End file.
